


Under a blanket of blue

by Bill_Longbow



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, POV Alternating, Sharing a Bed, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 16:36:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14794109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bill_Longbow/pseuds/Bill_Longbow
Summary: Tony is past the point of caring about having a soulmate or not. He has searched, failed, and bought the t shirt. Now, after New York, he has bigger concerns. But then a mystery assassin comes snooping around, turning his world upside down again.





	Under a blanket of blue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Juulna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juulna/gifts).



> For the lovely Juulna and the prompt 'bed sharing'. They also liked soulmate AUs, preferably set in the MCU canon. The fic is set somewhere after the Avengers movie, and before ca:tws. In this soulmate verse you have the first (nick)name your soulmate gives you on your body. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Massive thanks to Voodoofee for cheering and being awesome!

_Age 5_

 

The bad men took him to a dark place, somewhere near the harbour? He heard seagulls, just like when auntie Peggy took him to Coney Island. The men scared him. They were large, and smelled bad, and Tony hurt his knee when one of them threw him into the van. There was one nicer one. He made sure the straps on Tony’s wrists weren’t too tight, and he even gave Tony a sip of his coke. When the meanest was shouting into his phone, and the nice man stood close Tony took a chance. He cleared his throat, until the nice man looked at him.

 

“Are you my soulmate?”

 

_Age 15_

 

Tony rolled his eyes at the incompetent amateur club that had managed to grab him purely by accident. Well, maybe not completely by accident. He did broadcast very clearly on several occasions in the last weeks he would traveling back home for christmas, _by himself_ . _In the evening._ They nabbed him while he was waiting for the coach, he even had managed to stand a bit apart from the other waiting travelers, for easy nabbing purposes. At the moment he was tied to a chair while the head kidnapper and his upper henchman were conferring in the corner of the room. Another one was doing a very poor attempt at guarding him, aiming a gun, which was obviously on safety, at the general direction of his head, but wavering his arm to such a degree he could hit almost anyone in the room. Tony almost felt sorry for the lot when he suddenly jumped off his chair and kicked the gun wielder in the knee, making him drop the gun and cry. He picked up the gun and made the other two tie themselves up. These morons obviously weren’t his soulmate.

 

_Age 22_

 

The shooter had been apprehended and was waiting for questioning at the police station. It was imperative Tony got to him, but currently he was shaking too badly, from cold or from shock he wasn’t sure. He had taken off his jacket and put it over the face of his date, out of respect and because it was covered with her blood and other pieces he didn’t want to think about. He had been winning at craps, letting her blow on the dice for luck, when all of a sudden a shot had cracked the air and she had collapsed in a boneless heap on the craps table, splattering blood and gore everywhere. Tony had tried to run in the direction the shot had been fired from, but his new and overzealous bodyguard had jumped right on top of Tony, preventing him from doing so.

 

Later in the county jail he managed to sneak a touch at the shooter, taunting him until the man almost jumped at the bars to get to him, but nothing happened to his soulmark.

 

He went home and drank himself into oblivion. Another bust.

 

_Age 35_

 

He desperately heaved for air when they pulled his head from the bucket, the smell of dust and goat and unwashed bodies thick in the air. He barely had enough time to hack up water before they dunked him again, thrashing against their hold to keep the water away from the battery.

 

One thing kept him going. _They must be here._ He had given up hope of finding his soulmate over a decade ago, but this… This was too horrible, too painful, this _must_ be the time and place he would meet them. He counted upwards in prime numbers until they pulled his head back up, for him to heave and cough, before they tried to drown him again.

 

They weren’t here. Not the one guard who sometimes slipped Yinsen and him a little extra bread. Not the old lady who was tasked with clearing out their waste. Not any of the smelly, faceless goons who patrolled the corridors and brought him the parts he needed to build his suit. Not even Raza. He had touched them all, and nothing had happened, his soulmate wasn’t here.

 

He donned the armour, fully expecting to die, he was counting on it, _he wanted to_. The reactor could only generate so much power, it would be just enough to get Yinsen to safety and blast this hellhole to pieces.

 

When Yinsen died in his arms, a blissful smile on his face because he would be reunited with his family, his soulmate, Tony felt more than sad, burned with more than the need for revenge. He was jealous, and he was scared _._ He would not be unprepared ever again. He fired up the boot thrusters and shot away into the sky.

 

~~~~~

 

_Target_

 

He softly traced the individual black letters of his soulmark that stood out in stark contrast against the pale skin of his inner thigh. He smirked at the idea that he had been afraid Loki might be the one. He had known nothing about fear then. Now he _feared_ , but nothing so mundane as who his soulmate might be. Good luck to them, he couldn't care anymore. This fear was of a visceral sort, that left him unable to sleep, unable to do anything but work. Because when he closed his eyes he saw the endlessness of space, filled with an unimaginable amount of spaceships, from tiny to mammoth ones, all gathered to obliterate the human species and grind them to dust.

 

_Target_

 

How much of his life would’ve been different if he had had a different soulmark? The location always brought great hilarity to the bedroom. As if his soulmate needed a map and a guide to find his dick. He had laughed with them, cracked the jokes himself. But this had never mattered to him much. The things that kept him longing for a bottle of scotch were of a different order. Would Howard have dared to love a son who wasn’t destined to be kidnapped, killed, by his own soulmate? Would his mother still have found her only peace in those little white pills the doctor prescribed? What kind of person was bound by the universe to their captor, their executioner? Wasn’t it enough that he somehow deserved to be tortured and killed, did it have to be by the hand of the one who should love him unconditionally?

 

Inconsequential now.

 

He leaned his head back against the tiles of the shower. He had tried to get some sleep again, crashing after almost 70 hours of being awake. JARVIS had resorted to shutting down most of the power in his workshop, citing it was in his source code to take care of his creator.

 

It didn’t work. After only two hours he woke up gasping for breath, suffocating again, unable to move in the dead weight that was the suit. There was no suit of course, in his thrashing he had gotten tangled in the sheets. Drenched in sweat he had stepped into the shower, and sat down, trying to get warm again.

 

_Target_

 

~~~~~

 

Fifty one steps from the back of the alley to the loading bay doors, but no apparent mechanism to open these. Thirtytwo steps from the revolving glass doors at the front of the building to the right hand elevator, the reception at seventeen steps. One security guard visibly on patrol in the lobby, one more in civilian outfit at the reception. Eleven visible cameras in the lobby alone, moving without an obvious routine. Easily over two hundred people moving in and out of the main entrance every day on weekdays. In the weekend a few dozen.

 

In the sixty six hours he had been scouting there had been no sighting of his target downstairs, though the target did attend a charity gala. Scouting of the outside of the building hadn’t revealed the hidden private entrance yet, but he had set up multiple cameras in buildings surrounding Stark tower. From the vacant apartment in one of the nearby high rises he did see the target leave the penthouse in his iron armour on occasion. Glass of the windows of the upper twenty two stories did not permit view inside.

 

Hydra had previously tried to apprehend the target, but the team on site had underestimated him and he had escaped, leaving a mess in his wake. The next team sent to acquire him had been too late to prevent him from being kidnapped by the Ten Rings. The situation had been deemed too volatile to interfere, and they had pulled back. After the target had returned from captivity his risk assessment had been upped. He was deemed too dangerous to stay alive, but the several teams who had tried to eliminate him had all failed. This was why finally the asset had been pulled from cryo.

 

~~~~~

 

“Sir, the ‘I spy with my little eye’ algorithm has come up with something I suggest you to investigate.”  Tony grinned at the distaste clear in Jarvis’ voice. He _might_ use overly long and not so clever names on all his programs just to annoy Jarvis a little bit. Couldn’t have him grow complacent.

 

“Sure, J, throw it up on the big screen.” He dropped himself in the wheely chair that stood unused behind him and used the momentum to roll over to the other side of the lab where Jarvis had the space to display a big hologram. It showed different men walking around the lobby of the tower and on the street.

 

“What am I looking at?”

 

One by one the algorithm removed the caps, hats, glasses and beards from the men, to reveal it was actually just one face. A familiar face at that, but he couldn't quite catch the name that belonged to it.

 

“How long?”

 

“First sighting was 73 hours ago. I'm searching databases but so far there's no match.”

 

“Good boy, Jarvis. Hack SHIELD, see if it's one of theirs and notify Spangles if he's stateside again.”

 

“The Captain and agent Romanof are due to be back tomorrow, sir.”

 

“Excellent, let’s up the security to Chartreuse, shall we?”

 

“As you say, sir.” If Jarvis had eyes he would have rolled them heavily enough to look cross eyed.

 

“Can’t beat the color system, J, you just can’t.” With another pleased grin he rolled back to where he was disassembling one of the boot thrusters and put the mystery assassin spy to the back of his mind, confident in both Jarvis and his other security measures.

 

~~~~~

 

He silently dropped down from where he was hanging on the underside of a truck when it started to drive again, after having been parked in front of the loading bay. He rolled in one movement under the closing doors and crouched behind a row of boxes, taking in the space. He made his way behind some shelving, climbing on top of it and staying just out of sight of the cameras that swiffled left and right. With a large jump upwards he was onto a balcony from where he ran up a flight of stairs to the top level of the cargo bay. So far he remained undetected. He stayed crouched until the workers below were just out of sight, unloading the crates they had pulled from the truck, and reached up to unscrew the grating of the ventilation shaft. One minute fifty seconds after he entered the cargo bay he vanished into the ventilation shaft, pulling the grating closed behind him.

 

This was the opportune moment to execute the target, with both the Captain and the Widow out on a mission. This left only the Hulk and the archer, the latter of which the asset was confident he could take out. He had brought sedatives for the Hulk, should the need arise, but he’d rather not run into him. Getting damaged always brought extra punishment.

 

~~~~~

 

“Sir, there’s activity in the ventilation shaft of section 17a, but agent Barton is currently testing the new arrows at the shooting range.” Jarvis sounded concerned, which was a mean feat.

 

Tony sat up from where he was typing code for the latest Stark watch fitmeter and closed the program with a swipe of his hand. “Same guy?”

 

“This seems a reasonable assumption. The quinjet just passed into American waters and will be landing in approximately fourteen minutes. I’ve relayed the information to Captain Rogers.”

 

Tony had thrown up the 3D image of the tower and was watching fascinated as a tiny dot climbed the ventilation shaft faster than he had ever seen. “Please put out the call to assemble, and deploy countermeasures _Have fun storming the castle_ , please.”

 

“Right away.”

 

~~~~~

 

The asset grunted in surprise when suddenly the walls of the shaft he was climbing turned as smooth as polished marble, making him slide down a good twenty feet before he could brake by pushing out his feet and his ass, making him hang in a sitting position between the two walls. He painstakingly began his ascent again, moving a lot slower than he had before.

 

~~~~~

 

“He’s still climbing, isn’t he? Go on, next fase.”

 

~~~~~

 

He couldn’t see what was happening, the ventilation shaft was pitch black, but he heard various slams of metal upon metal all up and down the shaft. He climbed on, but noticed the air becoming thinner, and soon he was panting to get enough oxygen. Suddenly he hit his head against something, something metal, and he understood they had closed the bulkheads in the shaft to prevent him from climbing on. He punched the metal with his metal fist, there was no use in trying to stay hidden, he had to get out, he had to get air and eliminate the target. He punched, and punched, and punched.

 

~~~~~

 

“How is he still moving? This guy can give Cap a run for his money in terms of stubborness. Any movement outside the tower?”

 

“No sir, I’m scanning the streets and air in a six block radius. Quinjet inbound in eight minutes.”

 

“Thanks. The others?”

 

“Agent Barton requests entrance to the lab.”

 

“Ah, welcome, Katniss, what do you make of this?”

 

~~~~~

 

He. can. not. fail. Failure is punished with something worse than death. They make him _do_ things. With one last heavy punch he was through the bulkhead, and fortune had favoured him because here was still enough oxygen for him to climb faster upwards. There should be an exit within the next ten feet.

 

~~~~~

 

Clint looked concentrated at the dot that was moving again within the shaft. “Better suit up, genius, I don’t like the look of that.”

 

“Quinjet inbound in five minutes, it seems agent Romanof agrees with you, agent Barton.”

 

~~~~~

 

He dropped down out of the ventilation shaft, breathing heavily, but immediately scanned his surroundings. It seemed he was in some sort of office area, which was hastily evacuated. This meant he still had some twenty stories to go up. He ran to the stairwell, pulling the door straight from its hinges and ran up the stairs until he came upon a large steel door that wouldn’t immediately budge.

 

~~~~~

 

“Well, we gotta give him points for persistence. He’s like a robot,” Tony said, fascinated, now they could watch the man’s progress on screen. He wasn’t much worried, he had his new suit on with enough firepower to level a medium sized country. “And is that… J, rewind a bit, hold it, now zoom. Is that metal on his arm?”

 

“Oh shit,” Barton grunted next to him, staring at the image.

 

“You know this guy?”

 

Clint shook his head. “Tasha does, and it’s not good.”

 

On screen they watched the man try and first pull and then punch the door without success. The door was the divide between the public and private floors and was a lot sturdier than the ones on the lower floors.

 

The man pulled something from his pocket and peeled it out of the wrapper, only to stick it to the door on the side.

 

“Sticky bombs,” Clint mumbled as they watched the man plant five of them on the door in total. “Think your door can hold that?”

 

“No, watch, no bombs,” Tony replied and soon enough the door started smoking. The man stood back, but not as far as Tony would have. There was probably some sort of air filtration in that facemask. The man waited exactly two minutes and then started kicking at the door. Silently they watched him until the door finally gave and exploded inwards, the man following at a leisurely pace.

 

~~~~~

 

Why wasn’t he stopped? He was certain his target and these other ‘Avengers’ knew he was here, why didn’t they stop him? He wondered this while he strode through what seemed to be a living area, in search for his target.

 

~~~~~

 

“Why don’t we go and greet him?” Clint asked, massive arms folded in front of his chest.

 

“Where would you rather fight him, Merida, in between our personal stuff, or here where I’ve got eight spare suits and several other hidden surprises? Besides, I’m done with people demolishing my furniture, or did you forget the Hulk and guacamole incident?” Tony asked absent mindedly, focussed on the progression of the manbot. Jarvis’ impromptu search didn’t reveal any information on a metal handed assassin. His face was currently invisible, hidden behind dark goggles and a mask that covered half his face. Tony _knew_ he knew the man, but the memory didn’t want to resurface. The man strode over to the private stairwell unimpeded and started his ascent to the workshop one floor up.

 

“Quinjet will be here in less than two minutes.”

 

“Okay, look lively people, let’s show him a good old American welcome.”

 

~~~~~

 

He knew it was a trap, but he couldn’t _not_ walk into it. He had never met adversaries that could damage him enough that he wasn’t able to finish a mission. Not finishing a mission was even worse than coming back damaged, he would take this risk.

 

~~~~~

 

“J, if he’s upstairs, will you open the doors for him? Don’t want him to punch my pretty glass wall,” Tony said as he fired up the repulsors.

 

Behind him Clint had taken position on one of the cabinets and had loaded the bow with knockout arrows.

 

“In five seconds, sir.”

 

Clint released an arrow and it hit the man square in the shoulder the moment the doors opened. He didn’t even stop walking while he pulled it out. In a dizzying movement he suddenly rolled to the side and shot Clint, who ducked away barely in time, the bullet piercing his leg instead of his stomach.

 

Inside the suit Tony tracked his movements. “He’s as fast as Capsicle and Itsy Bitsy, Jarvis, set repulsors at enhanced stun.” Natasha had asked them to capture the assassin, not kill.

 

Tony tried to get a hit in, but the man was already on the move, dodging and rolling in a chaotic pattern. He managed to hit him in the ankle, but it didn’t even slow him down. Behind the assassin Steve and Nat came running in, and he looked behind him just in time _to catch the shield_ . Tony used the moment to fly over when an arrow zipped by and buried itself in the man’s thigh. He repulsored him in the side, but the the assassin’s metal arm, _it’s a whole arm_ , let go of the shield and shot out to grab hold of Tony with a vice like grip around his wrist, not even acknowledging the fact that he was shot. Thrice.

 

“He’s like a tank, J, up the power.”

 

Tony couldn’t pull free so he knocked the man in the head, making the goggles fly off. He was wearing some sort of warrior make up underneath, making him look like an angry raccoon. Most startling were his eyes though, a light blue that was almost grey and Tony was paralysed by his gaze. Steve jumped onto the assassin’s back and tried to choke him to let go of Tony. The man released Tony’s arm to try and dislocate Steve. It was enough for Tony to wake from his stupor and he readied his gauntlet to fire again when Natasha came sliding underneath the man, neatly releasing both widow bites onto his exposed stomach. Finally the manbot crumbled into a boneless heap, crushed by the weight of a 220 pounds supersoldier. Steve held him for a bit, to see if he was really unconscious, but when the assassin didn’t move he stood back.

 

Tony flipped up the faceplate and stood next to Steve while Natasha checked on Clint.

 

“How many Avengers does it take to change a lightbulb,” Tony muttered as he bent down to roll the unconscious man onto his back and pull away the mask. It was undeniably the man they had been tracking. There was something about him though, now that Tony saw him in real life. He barely noticed Steve falling to his knees next to him, muttering a disbelieving “Bucky?” as he was consumed by the need to _touch_. He retracted the gauntlet and gently brushed along the man’s cheek.

 

It was like touching a live wire. A bolt of electricity strong enough to send him sprawling backwards shot through his arm. A glowing, tingly sensation spread out from his fingers all over his body, and the soulmark on his leg burned for a second, before all sensations faded and it was just like nothing had happened. Except there was now something he couldn’t describe any other way than as a slumbering _presence_ in the back of his mind.

 

No, no, no, no. He crawled backwards, away from the man, away from Steve who sat looking at him slack jawed, away from… Just away. His back hit a cabinet and he pulled up his knees, folding his head between them. Oh God, oh God, oh God… This wasn’t supposed to happen, he was over this, he didn’t have a soulmate, he was too old to find his, or rather, be found by his. This wasn’t, this couldn’t… He had trouble breathing as all the times he was kidnapped, shot at, tortured came flooding back into his consciousness.

 

_Target_

 

“Stark… Tony, you okay?” Came Clint’s voice from far away. “What happened, man?”

 

Tony ignored him to concentrate on breathing, willing his thoughts to behave. He was not in a cave, he was not in space, he was safe, in the tower, _his_ tower, surrounded by his teammates and his soul--. He couldn’t even finish the thought.

 

“How? How could he’ve…?”

 

Steve sounded heartbroken, and it was that which made Tony snap out of his thoughts and look over. Steve sat bent over the intruder, one hand of the man in both of his, Natasha at his shoulder, murmuring something at him. Steve looked up at her and nodded, and Tony saw his face was tear streaked, but he quickly schooled his features, hid behind the Captain.

 

“We're bringing him to the hulk room,” Nat said, and Steve very carefully picked up the assassin in a bridal carry. Normally Tony would have protested, even only for the principle of it, but he was shaken to the core, only managing a mute nod at their retreating backs.

 

~~~~~

 

_Target_

 

The word was colored now, a beautiful deep silver with a shimmer of red beneath the letters.

 

~~~~~

 

His head hurt like hell, which meant he was damaged. Wait, that wasn’t right. He rubbed his face, and carefully opened his eyes. He didn’t recognize where he was, though it looked like some sort of containment cell.

 

_chair_

 

The word that echoed through his mind unbidden brought with it such terror he had to roll to the side to avoid barfing over himself. He managed to sit up on his hands and knees while he retched until his stomach was completely empty, then collapsed onto his back again with an exhausted grunt.

 

Movement in the corner of his eye made him sit up and scramble back as far as he could, against the back wall, that was clear just like the rest of the walls. It felt exposed, and it went against his very being, he should stay in the shadows. What? His thoughts were an incomprehensible jumble, and he couldn’t shake away the feeling of being watched, of not being alone. His focus automatically went to the person that stepped into the room where his cell was located. He seemed vaguely familiar, a former target?

 

He pushed his face against his knees, willing his brain to cooperate, forcing his thoughts to make sense.

 

“Bucky?” The man, a hulking blond, asked hopeful.

 

He didn’t raise his head, he had no clue what this meant. What’s a Bucky? The image of a tiny boy with hair as fair as the sun was suddenly very clear in his mind’s eye.

 

“Buck, it’s me, Steve,” the man spoke again, clearly expecting some sort of reaction from him, so he looked up, and the man smiled encouragingly. It’s a trick, his mind warned him, he’s not real. He shook his head, which was a mistake, and he hunched over with the pain, his arms coming over his head in a feeble attempt to protect it.

 

“Buck? You in pain?”

 

Was he supposed to be Buck?

 

_Bucky bear_

 

With a jolt he sat up and pulled up his shirt, exposing his right side.

_Bucky bear_

 

Marred with scar tissue (he remembered someone stabbing that place over and over, laughing at his tears) the letters of his soulmark were dark red, with a golden sheen to it. It was beautiful. Did this mean..? But he didn’t deserve a soulmate, he shouldn’t… they would use them to punish him.

 

_chair_

 

He huddled over again and shook himself. He was going crazy and he was terrified, a fear he felt deep in his bones. He needed to get away from here.

 

There was some commotion near the door, he heard voices arguing, and then the door opened, admitting the most beautiful being he had ever set his eyes on. Suddenly the turmoil and fear seemed to quiet a bit, in its stead a feeling of warm, of _belonging_. The man walked right up to the glass, past the blond, waving away a redhead, danger, and put his hands on the glass to look at him.

 

Cautiously he stood and walked over, until they stood face to face, and he put up his hands, one flesh, one metal, in a mirror of the man, his soulmate.

 

The redhead turned quiet, but the blond was urging the man to step away. He didn’t think the man even heard it, as he moved his hand as if to touch his jaw, forgetting for a moment they were separated by a thick transparent wall.

 

The man startled when the blond touched his arm, and he felt himself rear in anger, slamming against the glass, glowering at the intruder. His soulmate, his! The redhead took this as her cue to step up and hustle his soulmate away, while he slammed into the glass again and again, trying to stop them, to keep him. He was his…

 

Right before the door closed on them his soulmate turned and winked.

 

~~~~~

 

It took his soulmate almost 23 hours to come back. He knew this because he counted his heartbeats. In the meantime the blond called Steve and the redhead Romanof sat with him almost constantly and talked to him. He didn't reply, even if their reminiscing seemed to fill his head with memories. He didn't trust them, they kept him away from his soulmate, who knew what kind of lies they were feeding him? He had no way of knowing what was real and what wasn’t. The chair was real.

 

He did believe his names was James Buchanan Barnes, Bucky. It fitted the soulmark and sounded plausible. The best lies were fed amongst truths, and he thought this was one of the truths. The rest… His head hurt more and more as images of tiny girls in tutus who fought each other till they bled overlayed those of a frail young man who couldn’t stop coughing. Playing hopscotch on a dusty street was followed by ziplining onto a raging train, followed by a woman knitting, followed by dancing, followed by pain, so much pain, followed by fighting and shooting, sometimes with two human arms, sometimes with this metal one, followed by a funeral. Blood, fighting, pain, the same blond boy over and over…  
  
He hid his head between his knees, his hands tight against his ears to make them stop talking, to release him from the onslaught. He stayed as still as possible, pretending he was asleep, and at some point it worked because they left. He had no doubt he was being watched though, but he didn’t care, wrung out as he was. His soulmate was a calming presence in the back of his mind, confident.

 

As he calmed down the recent past came back to him. He’d been on a mission to kill his soulmate. Why, he wasn't sure, but he knew failure wasn't an option.

 

_Chair_

 

He shuddered. He knew they would send more, if he failed to report back. He was too valuable.

 

_Fist of Hydra_

 

The term brought with it so many memories of torture that he had to throw up again, even if his stomach was completely empty. They had tried to offer him food, but he hadn't touched it.

 

He had to get away from here, and he had to take his soulmate with him. It was imperative.

 

~~~~~

 

“Yes, I'm sure I'm sure, that's the whole definition of sure, isn't it,” Tony whispered at his AI while he sneaked through the secret passageway, behind the black widow’s back, who sat peering at the security feed of the hulk room. After removing him from there both Cap and Nat had tried to convince him it wasn't safe, Barnes had been brainwashed, and Tony would probably only make things worse if he visited again. They didn't want to see him hurt. He had argued until he was blue in the face, but had agreed in the end to wait two whole days in which the others would try and bring Barnes back.

 

It was like they didn't know him at all. The only reason he hadn't gone sooner was because the two supers had been in there constantly, while the presence in his mind felt _hurt_. Tony detested being helpless, and had tried to send calming thoughts back. Now Spangles had gone to bed and miss Ninja was content to watch Barnes from afar.

 

It was a piece of cake to have the feed be looped, Barnes had been lying completely still for almost an hour already. It was just as simple to bypass the main entrance to the hulk room and enter through the hidden door at the back. He was a paranoid billionaire genius, of course he had secret passageways into every room. For all their skills the spy twins, or the super assassin here, had never known.

 

When he walked into the room Barnes immediately perked up. He mimed the stay silent gesture, one finger in front of his lips, but he winked and walked over to the interface to unlock the door. He didn't know if Natasha's hearing was as enhanced as her reflexes, it just wasn't polite to ask stuff like that, so he didn't take any chances.   

 

He didn’t exactly have a plan, just this burning desire, this _need_ to be closer to his soulmate, to touch him and make sure he was alright, to lay eyes on his mark. He typed in the override code and the door opened with a soft hiss. Immediately his nose was accosted by the stench of vomit, and he held up an arm in front of his face. He hadn’t noticed yesterday, but they had let Barnes stay in that fishbowl without having it cleaned? Anger reared up, but extinguished as soon as his soulmate stepped closer. Hesitant at first, maybe afraid it was a trap. Tony opened the door a bit wider for him and held up his hands. An assassin as skilled as Barnes had shown to be should be able to clearly see he was unarmed. He wasn’t really of course, he had implanted himself with sensors that could call the suit to him from any distance. Finally Barnes was close enough to touch, and Tony grabbed him by the arm and pulled him towards the secret passage.

 

When the door closed behind them he finally gave in to the overwhelming urge to hug Barnes, to hold him close. It seemed the pull was just as strong for the other, and they clung to each other like drowning men to a raft. They pulled back, only to touch each other’s face, hair, trace their features and then hug each other again.

 

“We have to leave,” were the first words his soulmate ever spoke to him, in a low rumble, whispered against his hair. “It’s not safe.”

 

Tony looked up and cupped Barnes’ cheeks. He felt the urgency in the back of his mind, the place he was coming to recognise as belonging to his soulmate. Barnes felt afraid and determined, and Tony marvelled at how he could already tell so much.

 

“I designed the tower, we're safe here,” he replied, but the urgency didn't recede. Barnes shook his head. “They'll send more, they want me back.” He looked so sad, almost resigned. “But they can't have you,” he added, determined now, looking more like the assassin and less like Barnes.

 

“I can't just up and leave, Barnacle, the tower's the safest place I know, it's got my tech, my team. We'll stay here where I know I can defend you.” No way in the seven realms would they take Barnes away from him again. He started on the way back to the workshop, pulling Barnes with him. “Who are they anyway?”

 

“Hydra.”

 

~~~~~

 

His soulmate was stubborn. Beautiful, brilliant, comforting, and very, very stubborn. He flat out refused to leave the tower, citing a myriad of reasons, and with that AI there was no way Bucky could kidnap him without the whole tower shutting down and the avengers being alerted. He wouldn't be able to leave without (severely) injuring one or several of them, and he wasn't willing to do that. Everything in his training said he shouldn't care, but he was trying to beat that, trying to be better for his soulmate. He still didn’t really know what was real and what not, the jumble in his head was too great. They had planted lies into his head, and he had no way of knowing what or who to trust, except Tony.  
  
It amazed him how much the little bundle of emotions that represented his soulmate helped to center him, to make him a him again, instead of an it. Very slowly he was regaining some sense of self, and it was all because of Tony.  
  
Steve and Natasha (the names still felt foreign, too familiar) had kicked up a fuss at his ‘escape’, until Tony showed them a feed of them sitting hand in hand on the sofa in the workshop, with Bucky in a large hoodie and sweatpants. Tony had told them to stop getting their panties in a twist and that he would have Jarvis mess with their shower’s thermostat if they so much as breathed at Bucky funnily. They had been in the workshop almost half an hour before they even found out that he was missing, and he could have killed Tony in that time an approximate 264 times, provided he wanted each time to be new and original, or so the genius claimed. Bucky knew he only needed about three seconds to kill him, and he would always go for either the fastest or the most silent kill, but he didn’t correct Tony.

 

He was biding his time. He was positive they weren’t safe here, all Tony’s gear notwithstanding. The floor to ceiling windows gave him a headache, there were too many possible entry points, there was too much staff, and the countermeasures were all electronic in nature. Tony’s reassurance that they couldn’t cut the power, that he had built failsafes in the failsafes did nothing to assuage his fear. There would come a moment when the Avengers were out on a mission, or when he was allowed outside, and then he would take Tony and run, simple as that. Tony had given him his gear back, and after some snooping he had found a backpack, which he had filled with necessities, all hidden under his bed.

 

After he was caught it took them only two days to come the tower, the Captain’s own strike team, no less. Their leader had come up to the common floor with some mission related question, bringing with him a few goons with some flimsy excuse. When Bucky came walking out of the kitchen he heard a familiar voice, jarring memories of pain to the front. He sneaked a peek around the corner, and as soon as he saw Rumlow Bucky ran past them as fast as he could to the stairwell, Russian filling his ears, his head, _his whole being_ , until the door slammed shut behind him. Jarvis was looking out for him it seemed.

He focused on Tony, who's little presence remained asleep. Bucky hated how he had left Steve trapped by himself, _but he had to get to his soulmate_. He ran the stairs two at the time, and ran into the bedroom just as Tony awoke, no doubt alerted by Jarvis. Suddenly the glass in the living shook and shattered when a bomb went off and Bucky threw Tony over his shoulder and disappeared into the secret corridor behind the bed. Behind him he heard footsteps charging to the bedroom, but he thought Jarvis managed to close the hidden door just in time.

 

When Bucky put him on his feet Tony opened his mouth to speak, looking (and feeling) outraged, but Bucky put his hand over Tony's mouth, listening intently if the intruders had found them. As they stood there, the whole building rocked, and the lights flickered and went dark, before a green security light went on. Tony struggled in his hold, and he had no choice but to knock him unconscious and throw him over his shoulder again. He ran down the stairs, which took way too long for his taste, the tower rocking twice during the long run. Eventually he could go no farther, and he had to put Tony down to force open the door at the end of the corridor. It opened onto a small underground parking lot, one down from the private garage the Avengers used, if Bucky had counted the landings correctly. It was empty except for a nondescript black sedan. He gently lifted Tony and walked to the car, which he found unlocked. When he put Tony on the floor of the backseat, the car came to life.

 

“Sergeant Barnes, the tower is under attack and it’s imperative we bring sir to safety,” Jarvis stated and Bucky had just enough time to jump into the car as well before the engine roared and they sped out of the garage. They came up above street level more than a block away from the tower, so Bucky couldn’t see the total extent of the damage, but the upper levels of the tower were on fire, the glass blown out at the penthouse, while a black helicopter was circling it. News crews and police helicopters were notably absent, though Bucky could hear fire trucks in the distance, coming closer. He hoped Tony’s teammates were alright, but his first priority was getting Tony to safety.

 

“Jarvis, I know a place that’s safe. It’s not comfortable, but it’s untraceable,” he said as he climbed into the driver seat. Jarvis was doing an excellent job of piloting them discreetly through traffic, but a car without driver would surely attract notice. “Sir has several safe houses which are under the radar, so to speak,” Jarvis replied while stopping for a red traffic light.

 

“They expect that, they managed to circumvent the tower’s security, didn’t they? I know a place they don’t know about, guaranteed.”

 

The AI was silent for a bit. No doubt calculating the best chance of Tony’s survival. “Very well, I’ll give you control of the car once we’re out of the city.”

 

~~~~~

 

He awoke with a splitting headache in a bed he didn’t recognize. It actually felt like he had three hangovers at once, and for a second he was afraid he was back in time. He didn’t care to count the amount of times he had woken up in this exact state: unaware of where he was, and with a crippling headache. It usually never was this cold though, and the decor was far too rustic. With a jolt the memories of the tower being under attack came back, and he looked around for Bucky, growing more anxious with every passing second. He didn’t seem to be in a prison. The only things he knew about Hydra were what Howard had told him from the war, and the garbled mess of memories Bucky had wanted to share with him. He did know they wouldn’t use log cabins to hold their captives in. So what the hell was he doing here? The last thing he remembered was struggling with Bucky...

 

He gingerly got up, pulling the woolen blanket around him as he went. He was only wearing his boxers and a shirt, while his breath came out in little white clouds. The cabin was small, only one room, so he was quickly done exploring. There was the bed he woke up in, hidden from the rest of the room by a room divider. The other half of the space was taken up by the kitchen and a rickety old table with two chairs. That was it. There was a door that obviously let outside, and another that Tony supposed to be the bathroom. He made for that one, his bladder did not appreciate being neglected for this long, but it was only a supply cupboard. Great. He shuffled back and opened the other door, which indeed led outside. They seemed to be in the mountains. High enough up to be cold enough for snow, but still below the tree line. He was about to burst, so he shrugged the blanket off and hurried over to the nearest tree to quickly relieve himself. When he was done he shuffled back, the cold not doing his head any favours, and once inside he quickly wrapped himself in the blanket again. Now his feet hurt as well, his toes looking purple. He was never going to go asleep in just underwear again.

 

He called the armour to him with a flick of his wrists. The one that was programmed to his sensors was in a secure location outside of the tower. It was fast, and cloaked, but depending on where he was now, it could still take several hours before it got here, better be safe and have it on its way. The last thing Tony clearly remembered was Bucky holding him while the tower shook. He felt Bucky in his mind, he seemed concentrated but calm, which was enough for Tony to quell any rising anxiety as well. He went over to the bed to better roll himself in the blanket, and settled in to wait.

 

~~~~~

 

Bucky had been relieved Tony stayed unconscious during the five hour drive. But when he didn’t wake up when they were at the cabin he started to worry. He couldn’t stay with Tony though, he had to get out and cut wood, get fresh water and hunt something for food. The cabin was bare, and it would be dark soon, bringing with it a severe drop in temperature. He had just killed a fox by throwing one of his knives in its eye when he felt Tony waking up. He hurriedly picked up his prize and ran home, as silently as he could. He knocked before entering the cabin, it wouldn’t do to underestimate Tony. The door swung open, and there his soulmate was, clutching a heavy frying pan. It wouldn’t have impeded Bucky, but it would’ve hurt having that swung against his head. Tony unceremoniously dropped the pan on the ground and shuffled over to the bed, his shoulders hunched and his posture stiff. He was in pain?

 

“You’re hurting,” he stated as he closed the door behind him.

 

“No shit,” Tony snapped, wrapping himself up in a blanket, grimacing, “it’s clear Hydra only employs the brightest minds.”

 

Bucky recoiled from the insult, hunching in on himself. The part of him that was Tony instantly felt sad and ashamed.

 

“Shouldn’t have said that,” Tony murmured looking away. “I don’t like being kidnapped, though. The only thing that stops me making your life more miserable right now is the fact that you’re my soulmate. But my patience is wearing very thin, so you better start explaining yourself.” He looked angry, and he felt like it, a bit, but it was overshadowed by fear. If Bucky didn’t feel it himself he wouldn’t have picked up on the cues, the way Tony was holding himself spoke only of impervious annoyance.

 

Bucky nodded. “Fire first.” The temperature in the cabin was already way too low for Tony, so he put the fox in the kitchenette, and went outside to get the wood he had chopped. Damn metal arm was useful for something at least. He quickly built a fire, while Tony watched him, feeling weary.

 

When the fire roared he cautiously stepped closer to the bed, feeling hurt when Tony moved backwards, away from him, feeling Tony’s weariness mixing with sadness.

 

“I’m so--,” he started, but Tony interrupted him with a raised hand. “Don’t. I don’t need apologies, I need answers. Why am I here, and not where I’m supposed to be, fighting alongside my team? Huh? Why did my soulmate knock me unconscious and dragged me here against my will? Didn’t trust me, did you.” He looked at Bucky with his eyes ablaze, all righteous anger, even huddled in a blanket he struck an imposing figure.

 

Bucky startled at the intensity of Tony’s feelings. He didn’t want his soulmate to be angry with him, it chafed, rubbed him raw on the inside. It threatened to break down the equilibrium he was painstakingly trying to maintain. He closed his eyes and tried to will his thoughts to stay in order, to not go jumbling about. Anger was bad, anger meant pain, chair, isolation, ice, pain.

 

“C’mere.” He was startled out of his thoughts by this simple command. Tony beckoned him over with a hand, almost impatient. “Come on, up on the bed with you, you’re making me sad with those sad feelings, I don’t like sad, come on.”

 

Bucky took the two steps to the bed and let himself drop onto it, into Tony’s waiting arms. Immediately he felt better, more tranquil, the maelstrom of thoughts and memories that vied for his attention slowing down enough for him to feel in control again. “Thank you,” he whispered against Tony’s neck, where he clung like a small child. Tony’s answer was holding him closer, his emotions becoming quieter as well, smoldering instead of burning. “I need you to be safe,” Bucky admitted quietly. “I can’t go back without you. I can’t. I’ll lose my mind.”

 

Tony pulled back to look him in the eye, and Bucky almost couldn’t, wanted to hide from that gaze that made him feel naked and vulnerable. “Same goes for me, Buckaroo, I can’t protect you in my underwear.” He looked pained, and Bucky wanted nothing more than to pull him into a hug again, make the real world disappear. But he couldn’t, and by trying to keep Tony safe he had made him extra vulnerable. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again, and this time Tony didn’t interrupt him, because this time Bucky understood.

 

Tony pulled him close again, and Bucky felt how he had already forgiven him. He pulled the blanket over Tony's back, seeing the bruise where he had pinched Tony to knock him out. “I'm sorry,” he mumbled again and pulled back to get some water. He knew Tony's head must be hurting a lot. He went outside to scoop up fresh snow and put it in a pot near the fire, then quickly cleaned the fox and lit the stove as well to cook it. All the while he felt Tony's eyes on him, felt his emotions tumble all about. Once he had clean water to offer his mate Bucky sat down again, only to jump up immediately and run to the door, grabbing the shotgun he had left standing in the kitchen in one go. That couldn't be... Behind him Tony chuckled when there came a polite knock on the door. “Go on, Bronco, it's good company.”

 

~~~~~

 

Tony felt infinitely better when Jarvis came strolling in, past a dumbfounded super soldier, and stood sentry beside the bed. When Bucky started laughing his mood only improved

 

“Shoulda known not to underestimate you,” his soulmate chuckled.

 

Tony grinned, pleased, and settled more comfortably on the bed. “Talk to me, J, what's the status on the tower?”

 

“The attackers have fled, but not before causing massive damage,” his AI and oldest friend said. He had taken precautions to safeguard Jarvis a long time ago. He existed in so many places at the same time that he was virtually indestructible.  

 

“The team?”

 

“Save and healing, sir, but very worried about your whereabouts. I have taken the liberty to let them know you’re safe, discreetly of course.”

 

“You’re a star, Jarvis. Any idea who’s behind the attack?” He had been digging ever since Bucky had uttered the name of that fabled club of evil doers, but since he didn’t really know _where_ to dig he had been having little success. Or so he thought, maybe this attack was orchestrated because he had been coming too close.

 

“It was Steve’s strike team,” Bucky interjected while he turned the meat in the pan, “he said they were coming to collect something from their last mission.”

 

“The sergeant is correct, I identified agents Rumlow and Rollins, as well as five others,” Jarvis added.

 

“Now why would SHIELD attack my home like that, did we forget to pay the subscription fee again?” He could guess why, and waved for Jarvis to throw up a holo keyboard before he was done with his sentence.

 

“Hydra,” Bucky whispered, and felt so shaken Tony paused what he was doing and held out his arms.

 

“Come here, cupcake.” He reached out and pulled on Bucky’s hand when the other wouldn’t, couldn’t, move towards him, and pulled him on the bed. “We’ll be okay, it will take us a while, but we’ll be okay.” He hoped Bucky felt how sure he was of this. He was Tony fucking Stark, no one would come and take his soulmate away from him now that he had finally found him. No one. Especially no evil nazi cult.

 

~~~~~

 

As soon as Tony’s suit arrived he felt different, more like himself and less like a spooked animal to Bucky. In preparation for the assassination Bucky had watched footage of Tony in court, and he agreed, Tony and the suit _were_ one. It kinda fitted that the man with the metal arm was mated by fate to the man with the metal suit.

 

Tony lost himself in breaking through SHIELD’s security while Bucky prepared the meat and watched him work. He barely paused to eat, shoving pieces of meat into his mouth while typing with the other, constantly conferring with Jarvis. It was fascinating to watch, his fingers a flurry of movement on the holographic keyboard, but his mind felt oddly calm, like the eye of a storm.

 

A true storm was building in the valley below them, Bucky could hear the wind as it gusted between the trees, picking up speed. There would be no leaving the hut any time soon, and he was okay with that. Despite being proven right, that there was no escape from Hydra, he felt safe here.

 

~~~~~

 

Tony was pleased it took only two hours to finally get through the multiple layers of security they had found hidden _within_ the SHIELD network, without being traced back, because that just wouldn’t do. He was vaguely aware of Bucky, a calm presence in the back of his mind, and continued, digging deeper and deeper into the files.

 

~~~~~

 

Bucky shook the snow off his hair and back. He had gone outside to get more wood, before the storm would make it impossible to go out. He dropped the wood unceremoniously on the floor and halted. Tony felt… he didn’t feel anything from Tony, and he looked at him in shock. Tony sat on the bed, white as a sheet, the blanket forgotten and pooled around his waist, staring at his holo display. Without warning Bucky’s mind was flooded with horror, and he reeled. On the bed Tony started crying, and rocking himself, but when Bucky stepped closer Tony scrambled back. In his mind anger, fear and horror were battling for dominance, threatening to overwhelm him, and Bucky didn’t know if he could take it. He immediately felt ashamed, he should be better, do better. He needed to be worthy of his soulmate. “Tony?”

 

Tony shook his head, a hand against his mouth to prevent sound from coming out. “Jarvis?” Bucky tried instead, not daring to step closer, but needing to do something.

 

Without speaking Jarvis showed grainy footage from a security camera. It was of a road after dark. A car came into view and crashed into a-- “Stop,” he croaked out, “stop, please.” He knew what came next, he fell to his knees as memories of that night come flooding back. Howard’s pleading, the sound the woman’s windpipe made as he crushed it. He huddled in on himself, hugging his knees with his forehead against the floor. They had punished him when he mentioned in the debriefing that he knew the target. He deserved to be punished, he deserved it, he deserved the chair.

 

Strong arms enveloped him instead, pulling him against a familiar chest. He tried to move away, but Tony was surprisingly strong for his build, and after a feeble attempt he slumped in his lap, while Tony stroked his hair. He didn’t need to tell Tony how sorry he was, he could feel it, feel the despair and the self loathing, just as he could feel Tony’s aching sadness, overlapped by anger. Tony was so _angry_ , it chilled him. It didn’t make sense, he huddled more, convinced Tony would throw him out or kill him now any moment, and he wanted to savour this, the last touch of his soulmate.

 

He froze when Tony stood up, but then sat up to face him, it was the least he could do, a courtesy. But Tony didn’t go for the shotgun, didn’t order Jarvis to shoot him, didn’t order Bucky to leave the hut. He held out his hand for Bucky to take, and stood there until Bucky finally dared to. Once they were both standing Tony cupped Bucky’s face with his hands and looked him deep in the eye.

 

“I forgive you,” he said in a clear voice, and in Tony’s emotions something else bloomed, something warm, something Bucky recognised as feeling himself. “Once the storm is passed we’ll go out and hunt every last one of the bastards that did this to us. But you and I? We’re good.”

 

Bucky could only nod, and followed Tony to the bed, where he stripped out of his pants and laid down beside Tony under the blanket. Outside the storm raged and howled, but inside it was peaceful, warm. Safe. They lay face to face, staring at each other, seeing each other properly for the first time, and Bucky tentatively reached out to touch Tony’s face. His soulmate was beautiful, and he had never thought he would get the chance to meet him. He smiled back when Tony smiled at him. How simple this was, how safe. He believed Tony when he said they would destroy Hydra, his soulmate simply never failed.

 

~~~~~

 

Tony sneaked his fingers under Bucky's shirt, touching his mark. Bucky stiffened, but Tony didn't flinch away from the scars, they were part of his soulmate. He took Bucky's flesh hand and guided it to the mark on his leg. The terrible truth he had uncovered did nothing to change his feelings about his soulmate. He felt deep within how hurt Bucky was, how they had twisted and perverted all the good that he was, but never managed to break him. Tony was proud of his soulmate, his heart filled with it, and for the first time in his life he felt whole.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://bill-longbow.tumblr.com) or join us on the [ Stuckony discord server ](https://discord.gg/jtXcc3n) for all things Tony, Bucky and Steve!


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